


Make the Leap, I'm Waiting for You

by Pagalini



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Telepathy, during EoT, suggested Theta/Koschei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:15:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pagalini/pseuds/Pagalini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They make contact, and it's been the better part of nine hundred years since it was like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make the Leap, I'm Waiting for You

They're locked together, curled up like puppies in a junkyard - abandoned, kicked-out. Drawn closer, until their foreheads are pressed flat and the tips of their noses are touching. Their eyes touch too; fierce, glaring, sharp words bitten back as the moment stalls and memories sooth them.

Their minds are like the great tundra of Gallifrey's frozen north; vast, desolate, yearning for even the simplest touch. It's been so long since another of their kind has touched them there that despite the disasters, despite the horrific shared history, for a moment both are tempted to take that final step and make contact.

They are who they've always been - the little boy who ran away, who never grew up and has seen and done too much, and the other boy, the one who went mad and has done and done and _done_. 

Back then, they'd made contact as easy as breathing. For that reason - for the Doctor is still that little boy, still Theta Sigma, the dreamer, and the Master is still Koschei, the determined, and together they are so much more than they have ever been apart - they make contact.

They are who they've always been, and for that reason it is the Master who initiates it. The Doctor (Theta, always Theta when he's with the Master, so young and naive all over again - _please let me help you, please Master, please Koschei_ ) remains locked up, wound up tight as cool fingertips - not warm like human ones, cool and just right - settle on his temples.

 _Contact_.

The Master's mind is dark, ravaged, howling and screaming; a graveyard that stretches endlessly, endlessly, endlessly.

The Doctor uncoils like a broken spring, unfurling, spilling into the Master’s realm with something that’s almost relief. His own mind is so very empty.

  _Everything hidden, yes, can't look back, I can never look back, always running away because if I didn't I'd -_

Something shifts in the Master's conscious, mocking him with a weak gurgle. Its throat is ruined, body decaying and filthy.

  _Yes, Theta. Run away, that's it! Run away, coward!_ The Master’s mind-voice is not his current regeneration’s, nor any of his others. It’s resonating, sure; the smooth call of his original body, the voice of his boyhood – of orange skies and their infamous escapades during their time at the Academy, of laughter and rebellion as they’d grown into their titles – chosen early, chosen without permission; they’ve always been special. 

The Doctor pulls a wall up over the Master's darkest times, when he could have been lost forever in rotting body and raging mind- and sinks in deeper.

Further in, the howling quietens to a sibilant whisper and the retina-scorching colours dull to soft pastels. In the eye of the storm, so to speak, a glowing point of light pulses.

  _One – two – three – four._

His hearts flutter in his chest, mimicking, and he surfaces with a gasp that's nearly a sob.

Thundering, deafening.

The drums are _real_ , and the boy who has done and done and done can only laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from my livejournal. I was fourteen when I wrote this, so I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> I can be found at pagalini.tumblr.com for those interested parties, as a multifandom blog that posts fanart and likes to talk about feminism.


End file.
